The Tambourine Dove
by Ivory Novelist
Summary: A short oneshot between Aubrey and Maturin, concerning Christmas and a bird. NO SLASH. Please Read and Review!


A/N: Well, this is my second M&C fic. I hope there aren't any discrepancies. I used an apparently thorough website since I've only read one book in the series. This is meant to take place in between **_Mauritius Command_** and **_Desolation Island_**, I think. This is another one of those bunnies that came to me, along with my latest _**Band of Brothers**_ one-shot. Please go check that out if you're a fan of that fandom. It's called **_Coffee Interlude in Bastogne. _**Also: this is insufferably short. I'm sorry. I hope it's okay. I have no idea if they had menus or waiters or the sort of long coats I imagine them wearing back in 1810, but I couldn't find out too easily on the net, so I decided to just go with my imagination.

Please **Read and Review!** Thank you!

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_**The Tambourine Dove**_

December 21, 1810 was an overcast day in London. The snow had only coated the city enough to make for a lovely afternoon, instead of getting miserable and out of hand. The streets teemed with last-minute shoppers, and the buggies kept up the steady rhythm of hoof-beats on cobble stone. The shop windows were glowing softly with orange lantern-light from the insides, and the carolers had not failed to appear this year. A first-time visitor to London would not have suspected that England was yet involved in the harrowing war against Napoleon's France, nor that two men in particular were involved in the very battles that shaped the war's course.

Stephen Maturin and Jack Aubrey strolled down Burberry road, toward the small _English Rose Café, _their conversation indecipherable with the noise surrounding them. The doctor's blue eyes twinkled at something the captain said, and the next moment brought their bright mirth out like a spark in the middle of the otherwise shadowed street. Jack's laughter died down to a private grin as he uncrossed his arms to lay a guiding hand on Stephen's back when they reached the café door, the doctor languidly ambling inside with his hands still in his coat pockets. The host escorted the pair into the adjoining dining room from the greeting room, where the agreeable and mild noise of people having their dinner or coffee filled the room with flushed warmth that the initial greeting room lacked. Candles burned at every table, laughter rang out in accompaniment to the musical clinging and clanging of silverware on glass, and the pair of friends smiled simultaneously at the pleasant atmosphere. They found a table near one of the windows, and each shed his coat and hat.

"Good evening, Captain Aubrey," greeted a thin waiter by the name of Greenly, who had become acquainted with the captain and doctor over the last few years.

"Evening, Greenly. How are you on this fine December evening?"

"Fine, sir, and I hope you're all the better."

"Quite lovely, actually. Don't you agree, Stephen?"

"Lovely indeed, soul." Stephen adjusted his glasses before his brow creased slightly when he began to study the menu.

"Glad to hear it, sir. And what wine will you be having this evening, sir?"

"I think we'll have the Brunello di Montalcino tonight, right, Stephen?"

"Yes, joy, that would be just fine," the doctor crooned, his glasses gleaming as he pored over _Entrees. _Greenly nodded, as Jack thanked him, and sped off.

"Pity we're at war with France, I rather fancy their wine," Stephen commented casually, and Jack laughed.

"Well, I suppose that as much of a bastard as Napoleon is, I can't deny that his country does produce some great wine."

"I haven't had champagne in seven bloody years," Stephen complained, eyes steadily moving across the page. Jack chuckled to himself.

"Do you remember the last time we had champagne, Stephen? The night we first saw Diana at Melbury Lodge where Mr. Sevile was holding his fox hunt?" The doctor broke into a fond smile, eyes glazed in remembrance.

"A great deal of things have happened since then," Stephen ruminated. "And behold, she's not here to spend the holidays with me before we're off again." Jack's smile dissipated at Stephen's saddened tone. The doctor looked up at him and laughed lightly.

"Oh, joy, don't pity me now because of a minuscule misfortune. I'm fine, I promise you." He had seized that gracious and tender expression that would have some strangers believe him to be a man of more years and less stomach for gore. His thin fingers tapped at his glass rhythmically, his hold on it as loose as it could have been.

"I'm sorry I can't spend Christmas with you, Stephen," Jack apologized after a while.

"Don't be silly, Jack. I wouldn't dream of depriving Sophie and the children of you on Christmas."

"Come join us, love. I'd hate to think of you spending the holiday alone."

"Jack, I _refuse_ to intrude on your family's holiday," Stephen mewled, despite Jack's pleading stare.

"But you can't spend Christmas alone, Stephen, it's a crime."

"You're being melodramatic, soul, and it's not like you." Stephen sent him a clever look and leaned over to fetch the wine bottle, pouring it into his crystal glass. Jack sighed as he stood from the table, telling his friend that he would return in a moment. Stephen watched as the captain made his way into the greeting room and spoke with the host, before returning to the menu with a sip of his wine. He only looked up again when Jack sat down and set a box-like object on the table, the shape of a handle obvious beneath its black cloth cover.

"What's this?" Stephen questioned, but Jack only smiled.

"An early Christmas gift, joy."

"Oh, Jack, you know how I feel about gifts."

"Don't worry, it's nothing too expensive. Open it," Jack urged, eager for Stephen's reaction. The cellist eyed him suspiciously but pulled the gift across the table, setting the menu aside with his glasses. Without much hesitancy, he pulled the cloth away to reveal a small, wooden cage housing a single bird. Stephen gasped audibly, much to Jack's delight, and leaned in as close as he could to look at it. It was a plump little thing, its breast and belly immaculately white and its back a dark brown. Its head bobbed as it cooed without opening its thin beak, and its beady eyes shone at Stephen.

"Oh, Jack," he breathed. The captain was grinning broadly now, very pleased with himself indeed.

"It's from Africa," Jack explained. "One of my old colleagues had sailed down recently and apparently brought back several souvenirs. I asked him if he would be willing to give it up, and he had no problem. Do you like it?"

"He's beautiful," Stephen cooed. "A _Turtur tympanisitria,_ I believe. They're ground doves, if I'm not mistaken, so it shouldn't mind the aviary." He peered up at his beaming captain, that tremendous look of gratitude in his eyes, and murmured a "Thank you, Jack."

"You're welcome, Stephen. I'm glad it pleases you. Now, please say you'll join me for Christmas." The doctor muffled a sigh as he straightened in his chair, uncertainty in his expression.

"The children love you, Sophie adores you," Jack added. "Come now, Stephen. Don't make yourself lonely." The doctor smiled faintly and paused.

"All right, Jack," he surrendered quietly. "I'll join you for Christmas." Aubrey's lips stretched up wide into a gladdened smile, and the two shared a quiet exchange lacking words while their eyes locked. Jack poured himself a glass of wine at last and raised it up in a toast.

"To friendship." Stephen gave a soft smile and lifted his glass to Jack's.

"To friendship."


End file.
